


Blood of the Covenant

by Softlight



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Grief, Not exactly happy, Other, mentioned child sex abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7854037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Softlight/pseuds/Softlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of the sapphire boy and stone cold prince, from beginning to end.  The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, and sometimes the family you form is stronger than the family you have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood of the Covenant

**Author's Note:**

> Nicaise deserved better.

_ This one was young.  Far, far younger than he was allowed to be.  Laurent’s eyes narrowed as he took in his uncle’s new pet. _

_ He was a scrap of a boy, barely even ten, if his look was to be believed.  His face still carried its childish chubbiness, but his limbs were soft but skinny sticks.  He was already adorned in various jewels and a short dress, the hem dipping and rising in various places.  His arms were bare, and so much of his skin was on display.  Too much. _

_ His stomach churned, and his knuckles were white from gripping the arms of his chair.  The last one had started out at eleven, disposed of at age thirteen.  This one looked even younger.  His uncle was getting them earlier and earlier, only to rid of them sooner.  He was breaking them too fast.  Where was the line?  His pulse quickened, and it took every ounce of self control that he possessed to stop him from running out of the room and throwing up. _

_ The boy turned, as though he sensed Laurent’s gaze from across the room.  His eyes burned sapphire, and he plastered a smirk straight across his rosy lips.  The boy was stupidly beautiful, and when he became an adult, would no doubt attract all sorts of attentions with his beauty at its prime.  But for now, he was a child, and that warranted a sort of immature, unfulfilled, beauty. _

_ He quirked his eyebrow up at the boy, who merely raised his own eyebrow up in return.  The boy then started straight for Laurent, jewels shining as he walked.  He was surprised by the lack of blue gems. _

_ His uncle always like his boys in stones that matched their eyes.  Rich amber, glistening emerald, stormy diamond, deep onyx, and, of course, blue sapphire.  _

_ “You’re Laurent.”  It wasn’t a question, and the boy had his arms crossed with a glare in his eyes.  “The Regent told me about you.” _

_ “All horrible things, I expect,” he replied coolly, knocking the back of his heel against the leg of the chair.  “He never mentioned you.” _

_ “Well, I only just got here.  You’ll be hearing a lot of me from now on,” the boy boasted, as though it was a thing to be proud of.  To be the Regent’s personal plaything, his personal toy.  He wanted to warn the boy, tell him what exactly happened to the playthings that out-aged their usefulness.  But shame silenced his tongue, just as it had every time before.   _

_ Ignoring the rapid sinking of his gut, Laurent merely offered up a smile, sipping from his goblet.  “I suppose I will.”  His eyes darted to his uncle, still preoccupied with the nobles flocking to him.  “You know what you’re getting into?”  The boy nodded, rolling his eyes. _

_ “I know more than you do, princeling,” he retorted, eyes narrowing.  “It’s my choice, so leave me alone.”   _

_ Laurent nodded.  His fingers felt like they were about to break. _

_ Just as the boy was about to turn and head back for the Regent, he felt the urgency to speak, forcing the words out of his mouth.  “It’s easier if you close your eyes,” he said quietly, and the boy stilled.  His sapphire eyes met Laurent, and he just barely nodded his head in acknowledgement. _

_ “The name is Nicaise; don’t wear it out,” he remarked as he headed back for the Regent, and all Laurent could do was watch. _

* * *

 

_ Nicaise was staring into a pastry, looking as though someone had choked the life out of his mother right in front of him.  He typically wouldn’t have bothered, but something was off.  In the two years he’d been around the boy, Nicaise had only grown more stubborn and insufferable.   _

_ Something akin to pride flushed within his chest if he thought about the boy long enough, but he was always quick to wipe it away. _

_ “Has the Regent not called for you recently?” he asked darkly, leaning against the wall for support.  It was better to goad him at first; it was the only way he ever got anything out of the still scrawny boy. _

_ Nicaise snorted, an odd sound from the boy who always took extreme measures to be pretty.  “Every night for the past week,” he muttered, not bothering to wrench his eyes from the pastry.   _

_ “You’re normally a happy boy when that happens.”  Nicaise hung his head, and Laurent could’ve sworn he heard sniffling.  “Nicaise?” _

_ “It’s my birthday.  And don’t you dare ask how old I am now,” he said, but there was no venom in his voice; only weariness.   _

_ “Ah.”  He forced Nicaise to make room on the bench for him, sitting down next to the Regent’s pet.  “Does my uncle know?” _

_ Nicaise blew hair out of his face.  “Does it matter?  I get older every day, and this particular one isn’t any different from the last.  No one here cares, and I don’t.”   _

_ Laurent watched the trees blown in the gentle wind before closing his eyes and letting the wind whistle.   _

_ “When I turned fourteen, the palace was full of fake joy.  It hadn’t been long after my brother’s murder, and no one was happy, and there was little point in pretending they were.  Of course, I was the new Crown Prince, so they did anyways.” _

_ Nicaise miraculously remained silent, so he took that as his cue to continue. _

_ “So it was filled with cakes and pastries and all sorts of things the average spoiled prince would enjoy, and people sang, and all the elements of happiness were there, but not a singular person was happy.  At least, I wasn’t.  My uncle was there, and he barely tolerated the glorious celebration of my birth.” _

_ “What’s the point?” Nicaise asked hollowly. _

_ “Let me finish.  To recount, my family is dead, and nobody's happy.  Least of all me.” _

_ “Boo-hoo.” _

_ “Do you want to know what happens or not?” _

_ “Since when do I care about  _ you _?” _

_ “Exactly.  I’ll wrap it up quick, because a child like you obviously cannot handle sitting still for more than three seconds.”  Nicaise let out a small laugh, which was a more positive reaction than he had hoped for. _

_ “So, in the middle of the party, I was bored to tears and closer to them than I’d like to admit.  And I figured that if I had to live through my birthday, then I should do at least one thing that I enjoyed.” _

_ “And what did you do?” _

_ “I snuck out, stole a horse from the stables, and rode like the wind.” _

_ “So you’re saying I should steal from you?  Are you sure you’re not trying to land me in prison?” _

_ “No, although that would be nice, I won’t lie.”  He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath.  “Do something you want to do.  It doesn’t matter who cares, as long as you do.” _

_ Nicaise’s shoulders gave a tiny shake.  “I got this pastry.”  He sat up straight, staring dead ahead.  “My mother used to give me them every year on my stupid birthday.  Does that count?”  Laurent shrugged, eyeing the pastry.  There were maybe three bites in it. _

_ “If it made you happy.” _

_ “No, it didn’t.” _

_ “Well, try something-” _

_ And then he received a face full of cream. _

_ “That, however, made me quite happy.”  He wiped the cream off his face, glaring as Nicaise smirked down at him. _

_ “You’ll pay for that,” Laurent said, but there was no conviction behind it.  Nicaise merely smiled, the boy he was once again sealed away behind his pretty trappings. _

_ “I’ll see you around,” he called as he spun on his heel.  “And you might want to clean the bench up before someone sees.”   _

_ Laurent looked down.  There, written in the cream of the pastry, was the number twelve. _

* * *

 

_ He watched as Laurent left with his slave, clutching the mate to the earring he had given Laurent in his hand.  He could feel it piercing his skin, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  He watched them leave, and only strayed back to his bed once he couldn’t see them anymore. _

_ Something in his gut told him that he would never see either of them again, the beastly barbarian or the icy prince.  He told himself that it didn’t matter, and even if it did, which it most certainly did not, it was just a feeling. _

_ He would see them again.  He would. _

* * *

 

_ “Please, don’t do this!” he screamed, tears streaming freely down his faces.  His cries fell upon deaf ears and forced smiles.  Once upon a time, he would’ve hated himself for crying, not just for showing the emotion, but for ruining his carefully polished look.  Now, it didn’t matter.  None of it did. _

_ Because he was out of time, and so was Laurent. _

_ At least he could die knowing he did his best. _

_ ‘I pleaded for you, you ass.  I tried, and my time ran out.  Don’t waste it.  Don’t let my life be a waste,’ he begged to Laurent, praying that someone, through the miles and miles that separated them, that he would know. _

_ He would never see him again. _

* * *

 

“They said they were told to burn the rest of him,” Damen said quietly, not daring to touch Laurent.  He merely nodded, swallowing thickly.

“To be expected.”  It still hurt; that there was nothing left of the sapphire boy to bury, to mourn.

He self-consciously touched the earring he had put in after the coronation and hadn’t taken out.  The sapphires were bright and clear, and the very sight of it had brought many a room to its knees.  No one knew what to think, what with their king wearing jewelry that marked him as a pet.  The cuff had been bad enough, but an earring?

If anyone questioned it, he merely had Damen glare at them until they didn’t feel comfortable asking any more questions.

“I told you, once, that I didn’t have good luck with brothers.”  His chest felt like it was shaking, but his voice was oddly clear and steady.

“I remember,” Damen replied quietly.  Laurent nodded, more to himself than his husband.

“The truth is, well,  _ was _ that I had amazing luck with brothers.  Sickening good luck.  Auguste was the best brother, the best man, I knew growing up.  There was no one I loved more than him, and he loved me.  There was nothing he wouldn’t have done to protect his little brother who hid behind books.”  He forced a laugh out, but it felt flat.  

“And then he died, and his little brother was gone.   _ I _ was gone, exchanged for someone cold and calculating, but it didn’t come soon enough.”  A moment of quiet.  “I have amazing luck with brothers.  I just can’t seem to hold on to any of them.”  And that’s when he broke.

He didn’t cry easy, not anymore.  Laurent didn’t have the time to cry, the mental energy to devote to it.  But once he started, it didn’t stop.  

Damen held him lightly, letting him get it all out.  “I - just - can’t - keep - them,” he sobbed, bowing his head.  Damen rubbed his back slowly, making sure he knew that he wasn’t alone.

His breathing slowly became even, and he wiped away the tears from his eyes.  His hands shaking, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of folded cloth.

“I wanted to bury something,” he said quietly.  Laurent unfolded the cloth, revealing the twin to the earring that he wore.  “They found it in his chambers, tucked carefully inside his drawer.  I didn’t even know he had two.  Sly bastard.”

He clutched it for a moment, letting his thumb rub over the polished stone before dropped it into a small box.  Laurent gently placed it in the small hole in front of him, ignoring the headstone that laid just a little further away.

“Help me bury it, you mammoth,” he sniffled, handing Damen a shovel.  It didn’t take long, as the hole wasn’t large, rather deep, and Damen was surprisingly productive.  Damned muscles.

Laurent paused, closing his eyes for a moment before daring to look at the headstone in his family’s plot.

They hadn’t let him put Nicaise in his personal family vault, but he was allowed on the land.  The Regent was banished to a grave by burning, his ashes thrown into the ocean with little show.  He had forbade the man from having a grave with his loved ones.

The headstone was simple, bearing Nicaise’s title as the fifth son of some noble, who had readily agreed to having a tombstone in Nicaise’s name on his king’s personal land.  

There was one word beneath his name, and that was all that mattered to Laurent.

_ Brother _ .


End file.
